


Hearsay

by toxxicpill



Category: Sally Face (Video Games)
Genre: Homophobic Slurs, M/M, character death mention, rape mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-03-27 20:16:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13888350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toxxicpill/pseuds/toxxicpill
Summary: Sal Fisher is serving the second year of his life sentence in prison after being convicted of mass murder. Generally a quiet loner, Sal is forced to deal with a threatening criminal introduced as his cellmate. Sal recounts the events to his new therapist.





	Hearsay

**Author's Note:**

> i haven't written in a hot minute, pls be kind
> 
> check out my inmate Sal ask/rp blog https://sallyfacekiller.tumblr.com/

Sal trudged through the hallways of the prison, escorted once again to the small conference room he’d found himself confined in time and time again. It had been so long since the incident with Dr. Enon, the only man who had ever believed him… Sal often wondered if the man was trapped in the treehouse the same as Larry, restless. Pulling himself from his thoughts, he nodded as one of the guards opened the conference room door and allowed Sal to enter. The smell of coffee filled his nostrils, such a normal thing was foreign to him now. The scent dared to remind him of mornings with his father, he winced at the far off memories.

 

Standing across the room from him was a woman, she was average height, lean, and had a mess of curly brunette hair falling over her shoulders. When she finally turned to face him, she had the warmest smile that Sal had seen in a long time. It was as though she was unphased by the idea of what he had done, though he knew this was likely due to her extensive briefing beforehand.The woman nodded to the guards behind Sal, motioning for them to leave the room. The men exchanged a concerned look but exited the room, regardless.

 

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr Fisher.” The woman turned back to counter beside her and poured a paper cup of coffee for herself. “Would you like some coffee?” She didn’t wait for any response before pouring a cup for him anyway. She turned and walked across to him, setting his cup on the table between them. “I’m afraid it isn’t hot, safety risk. But it is warm, not off putting.” Taking her seat in the very cushy looking armchair behind her, she sipped from her cup and readied her notepad and pen in her lap.

 

“You can sit down, Sal.” She looked between the standing man and the seat across from her. “May I call you, Sal? Mr Fisher seems rather formal.”

“Is this not a formal meeting?” Sal questioned, his prosthesis hiding his confused expression.

“Very much, so.” She looked down, writing in her notepad about Sal’s hesitance to relax with her. “I just feel that we should look at one another as equals. You’re a human, the same as I am.” It was almost inaudible, but she knew she heard the man scoff behind his strange mask. When he finally took his seat, she noted that as well, her pen scritching quickly across the lined paper.

“My name is Diane Clairemont.” She crossed her legs. “As I’m sure you’ve gathered, I will be your new therapist.”

“Has Dr. Burman resigned?”

“From your case, yes.” Clairemont replied softly. “He did not give a reason for his deferral to me, so your guess is as good as mine.”

“Somehow I doubt that.” Sal didn’t look the woman in the eye, he simply stared at the open mouth cup of coffee. The overhead lights were reflected weakly in the brown liquid, he hoped focusing on that could prepare him for the ordeal of telling his story yet again. It became tiring to recite it over and over with not even a hint of belief on the faces of the listeners.

“I have read over all of your notes, Sal.” Clairemont flipped through some papers at her side. “But I would like to form my own opinions by discussing some more current events with you. “It’s been two years since you were proven guilty in court.” The woman mused. “How ha--”

“I was not proven guilty anything.” Sal interrupted her, a cold irritation in his voice. “There was merely… a lack of tangible evidence to prove that I am innocent.”

Clairemont raised a brow and looked to her notepad, jotting something down before looking up to Sal and continuing with her statement.

“How have you adjusted to your sentencing, Sal?” She leaned back in her seat, flexing her foot in idle passing. 

“About as well as a wrongly convicted man could, Dr. Clairemont.” Sal rubbed his hands together. “It was hard at first, being here with these types of people. But I’ve grown accustomed to it in a way.”

“I was told that you are under watch for violent outlashes as of late.” She gestured towards the door. “Hence the guard’s hesitance to leave you with me alone.”

“We aren’t alone.” Sal replied, deadpan, looking up to the multiple security cameras in the room.

“Tell me about this violent streak you’ve had.”

“It was a single incident and not unwarranted...” His one good eye flicked up to meet her gaze. “It was the man they saddled me with as my new cell mate.”

“Did he assault you?”

“No.”

“Then why were your actions ‘warranted’?” She placed particular importance on the last word.

“He threatened me.”

“He threatened you?” She repeated. “That’s an interesting thing to say, because, I have read in your previous files…” She took three papers out and sat them on the table between them, gently pushing them across to Sal. “That you have been harassed and threatened your entire life, yet you claim you have never acted in retaliation before.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“It isn’t that I don’t believe you, Sal, I want to know why now?” She leaned back in her seat. “Now you are held accountable more than ever for your actions, why is it that you choose to lash out now?”

“I wouldn’t say this is the same thing as what I experienced as a child.” Sal held the papers in his hands, pouring over Dr. Enon’s notes about Sal’s passiveness.

“And why do you say that?” Clairemont asked, she knew the answer, but she couldn’t make assumptions. She needed him to say it.

“Being a child and having another child pull your hair or push you into a locker… Is entirely different from being here. I am caged in with very bad men who have done very bad things. And unlike children, they are not afraid of doing those things again.”

Clairemont wrote down his response in her notes, crossing her legs and running her fingers through her hair.

“Do you believe his threat was legitimate?” She wrote her own question into her notes. “Would he have acted on this threat?”

“I believe he was posturing.” He said frankly. “Attempting to set himself above me to avoid being…” Sal trailed off, not wanting to explain, he was sure Clairemont knew anyway. “It doesn’t matter if he would have acted or not.”

“Why do you say that?” She looked up from her papers.

“Because I took care of it, regardless.” Sal’s words were cold and distant.

“Yes, I’ve seen that you’ve had a stents in solitary during the past year.”

“As did the others involved.” He sounded annoyed and a little tired. “It isn’t a special punishment, it’s fairly common.”

“Sal,” She leaned forward slightly, clasping her hands together and staring him dead in the eye. “I need you to tell me about this situation in detail so that it can be decided what to officially do about it.”

“There’s already and incident report.” Sal raised his head, letting out a deep sigh and relaxing back into his own seat.

“And you seemed smart enough from your files to not attack a cellmate. You’re serving enough time as it is, Sal.”

Sal looked away from her, staring intently at the coffee table, thinking over the situation. He knew there was in fact more to tell than he had told before, maybe it could help him, though it seemed unlikely… Returning Clairemont’s gaze, he began speaking.

“He had arrived early in the morning, like all the new inmates.” Sal made a vague gesture towards the wall clock. “I was laying in bed, I have the top bunk. I didn’t acknowledge him when he was brought in or even after the guards left.”

“Why is that?” Clairemont asked. 

“I just like to be left alone.”

“Hm.” She wrote something in her notepad. “Your cellmate, did he begin harassing you right after arriving?”

“I wouldn’t call it harassing.” Sal admitted. “Not at first. Moreso just, an annoying and insulting line of questioning.”

“What did he ask you?”

\---

 

“What’s that shit on your face, man?”

Sal ignored the question…insult(?) that the other man started with, deciding that it was be best to simply remain quiet.

“Hey, I’m talkin to you.” The other man sounded annoyed. A silence grew between them and finally he continued. “I didn’t realize they let you keep toys in prison. Least not that kind.” He crossed his arms and smirked, amused at his own joke. If it could be called that.

Sal rolled his eye and shifted to lay facing the wall, attempting to shut out the annoying idiot pacing about the cell floor. He had been less than excited when informed he was getting a cellmate. It had been the better part of of a month since he’d had one and he was enjoying his time alone. 

“You got some kinda hearin’ problem?”

‘Unfortunately, not.’ Sal thought to himself. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could just ignore the other guy. But thankfully he finally piped down, the last thing heard from him being a attitude ridden:

“Whatever, Jason Voorhees lookin mother fucker.”

 

The rest of the day went quietly enough up until the evening meal. Sal always managed to sit alone, or as close to it as he could get. He found he didn’t have to worry so much about having his prosthesis snatched off. This had happened a few times when he had first arrived. Aggressive criminals wanting to get a look at the Sally Face Killer. Since then, he had figured out where the more sensible criminals sat and they were far too wary of the mass murder in their midst to bother him. The other men tended to sit themselves away from him, Sal was thankful for this, much preferring to eat his meals in peace than with the constant chatter of other inmates. Though today he wouldn’t be so lucky to enjoy his miserable meal alone.

“Hey roomie.” The new inmate sat right next to him, uncomfortably close. “How’s your grub?” Not getting any response, he huffed and began picking through his own food.

“You know…” After a moment of silence, he spoke again. “I thought you were familiar when I seen you, but I wasn’t sure.” He took a bite of the veggie loaf on his plate. “You’re that Sally Face Killer, ain’t ya? Freaky mask, gimp eye, fuckin ghost stories? You killed that whole family.” He shook his head. “That’s fucked, dude.” He laughed. “Oh wait, no that’s right, you’re innocent.” The man snorted. “Me too, I never raped anyone, s’how I got here. Bein’ a stand up guy.”

Sal stopped eating all together, placing his hands on either side of his food tray and listening to the man ramble on. The mention of the man’s crime made his stomach churn.

“Hey, don’t worry!” He nudged Sal’s arm. “Bitch had it comin’, should’a seen her.”

Sal began bouncing his knee in irritation.

“I heard somethin’ else bout you too.” He turned to look at Sal, grinning when he saw the twitching of his fingers. “You ain’t just kill those people, that family… I heard you killed your boyfriend too. He was yer boyfriend, right?”

Sal tried not to clench his fists at the mention of Larry.

“That’s pretty cold…” His voice grew cold. “People so fuckin scared of you here. You don’t run the joint, nothin’ like that… But people don’t fuck with you, that’s what I heard.”

 

““What’d you kill him for? Get tired of him?” The man laughed. “He ain’t keep up that good shit?” 

 

Sal clenched his fists, he wanted to bash the man’s head into the table until he stopped spitting out anything but blood and teeth.

“How long’s it been, huh, Sally Face? Do you miss it?” He leaned in close, hardly a breath away from Sal’s ear. “I’m gonna fuck you.” He growled. “I’m gonna fuck you, just like I fucked that bitch that got me here. I learnt that you ain’t nobody’s bitch. So when I show you up like the freak you are, I ain’t gonna be nobody’s bitch. I’m gonna make you scream like he never did.”

Sal slammed his hands against the table and stood up straight, though he wasn’t tall, he loomed over the still seated man. Despite his threats, the man looked obviously frightened at the sudden movement. Sal stared down at him, fighting back the urge to beat him in the face with his dinner tray. His breathing was erratic and he could feel the other inmates looking on in silence, waiting to see him lash out for the first time since his arrival. He looked up, seeing the guards along the wall watching him intently, ready to rush into the middle of a fight at any moment. He let out a deep sigh, returning his gaze to the scumbag next to him. Deciding not to make a scene here, he simply took up his dinner tray and emptied it out, leaving the mess hall and heading off alone. He needed to think some things over.

\--

When night finally fell, Sal was already back in his cell before the others. After escaping the mess hall, he’d settled in to bed not an hour later. He’d placed his prosthetic beside him and his glass eye in a paper cup of water that he’d nestled He had been facing the wall for hours now, running what had been threatened over and over again in his mind. He was anything but afraid, but still, he didn’t look forward to his cellmate’s return. There was no telling what sort of shit he would talk or what he might try to pull.

He thought of Larry… He knew there were rumors that he and Larry had been lovers, but it was passed around as an insult with no real thought behind it. Sal closed his eyes and tried to picture Larry laying next to him. The memory was so faint now, the mornings he would wake up first and watch Larry sleep. Counting the freckles and moles that adorned his olive skin, the warm sunlight sifting in through the window. A soft smile crossed Sal’s lips, remembering fondly, the honey and coconut scent of Larry’s shampoo. It always left his hair soft and fragrant, Sal couldn’t count the times he’d run his fingers through the other man’s hair and place soft kisses along the nape of his neck. 

God, how he missed him… 

Tears welled up in his eyes, the accusations against him hurt, cut him deeply, but nothing compared to the idea of murdering Larry. Sal buried his face into his pillow, clutching it close to his chest. If he tried to relax, manage to lose himself in his thoughts, he could imagine holding Larry again. The thought kept him company in the cold prison cell. The memory of Larry’s soft laughing as Sal’s breath tickled his neck, how the other man was always eager to kiss him despite his deformity, the feel of Larry’s thin fingers lacing themselves between his own. 

 

Sal hardly noticed his tears come to a stop as his body became heavy and relaxed. It wasn’t until a rude awakening that he’d realized he’d even fallen asleep. There was a sharp blow from beneath him, startled awake, Sal realized the man had kicked the underside of his bunk. He grunted audibly, earning a chuckle from the bunk beneath him. 

 

“You can sleep easy tonight,” The other inmate taunted. “I’ve had a long first day, after all… Goodnight, Sally.” The man’s words dripped with malice and turned Sal’s stomach for the second time that day.

 

It wasn’t long until, as promised, his cellmate was silent. Eventually Sal could hear the tell tale slow, rhythmic breathing of deep sleep. Sal had never gone out of his way to hurt anyone in the prison, he never acted in anything but self defense… Though he saw where that had gotten him this far in life. Closing his eyes, the disgusting statements from earlier bubbled up in the back of his mind. This stranger had bragged about what he’d done, about what he planned on still doing. He thought of the man’s description of him, pointing out his prosthesis, eye, his “delusions”. The sound of the man’s breathing began to fill his ears, reminding him of how close he’d been at dinner. Sal opened his eye and looked to the wall, staring blankly at his prosthesis… He had the inkling of an idea. Leaving his glass eye aside, Sal took his mask and fixed only the top clasp and climbed down to the floor.

He stood for several long moments, staring down at the sleeping man. Finally, Sal made his move, climbing over the inmate’s sleeping body and staring down at him. Sal straddled the man’s stomach and reached out with both hands and tightly gripped his throat. The man’s eyes flashed open as he felt the intense pressure closing around his throat. He reached upwards in an attempt to pry Sal’s hands off of him, though it was to no avail.

“What was it you said to me earlier?” Sal growled down at him, tightening his grip on the man’s throat, taking pleasure in the blood flushing to his face, unable to pass. “You were going to fuck me? Do you know why nobody fucks me?”

 

“S-St--ackk--” His voice was cut off, devolving into raspy croaking sounds, he tried to scream but couldn’t. Panic was setting in and the man did the only thing he could think of, he reached in a desperate attempt to jerk Sal by the hair and snatch off his mask to catch him by surprise.

 

Sal allowed the man to pull at his hair, he knew what he was doing, what he wanted to do. After a few moments of enjoying the man’s struggle, Sal took one hand off his throat and grabbed hold of his wrist. He twisted the bones of the inmate’s hand, hearing a violent cracking and eliciting a pained half scream from his victim.

“You want to see?” Sal reared back as far as he could while still crushing the prisoner’s windpipe. “It really isn’t fair is it? Everyone else got a good look, after all.” Sal reached up with his free hand and slowly pulled his prosthesis off and discarded it to the floor. He stared down at the man with his one good eye, seeing the look of abject horror written across his face. “You want to know why no one fucks me?” Sal leaned down, his hair draping around their faces. He opened his empty socket, the white scarred tissue illuminated by the dim hallway lighting.

“It’s not because I’m ugly,” Sal returned his free hand to the man’s throat. “It’s because, more than the guards, more than the warden, they fear my hands wrapped around them. Choking the very life out of them for even having the thought.”

The inmate beneath him was losing consciousness, eyes rolled back in his head and arms going limp. Sal smirked, his scarred lips spreading to expose his teeth.

 

“Or did you forget that I murdered all those people?”

 

\---

“You told him that you murdered those people…” Dr. Clairemont sat in silence, her hands clasp tightly together on her lap. “That you murdered Larry.”

“It was nothing he already didn’t think.” Sal refused to look away, holding her gaze possessively. “I just put it into perspective for him… That if it had indeed happened.. How easily it could happen again.”

“Sal…”

“You told me you’d read my papers.” Sal looked at the stack of documents beside the therapist. “Tell me, Dr. Clairemont. Do you think I killed them?”

“Only you know the truth, Sal. You’ve already been sentenced.” She looked concerned and frightened, unsure of what to say to this man, this possible monster, before her. “What could my opinion possibly mean to you now?”

 

“Everything.”


End file.
